A sinister silence.

Without one single word given me,
I cannot justify putting any more into print.

My time is spent here, now mourning among the thin
lines of my own making. Lost of any cause
or relief from an awful truth. One step removed,
one step back - jumping might do it,

it just might - but hold out

for the hand, to the man, with a call back to safety
don't be so hasty to judge this all fallen


a glaring white sheet of fabric

a vast expanse of unimagined potential, casting no shadow

folding over corners in nobody's mind.

Forget it.

An abrupt black glob of oily ink, reflecting blue, tasting
naked of news but raking in memories of the

crunched up ends of chewed pens

nothing can make amends now

nothing can return the feeling of safety in numbers

of letters

of lines

or words, reworked and fine ... all mine - I and we all
are safe here, among our own chosen channels

be off among the worlds that do not abuse us,
away from those that do

and it will be quiet at the end of our day, a fueled silence
fallen over the sharp folds of life - smoothing, calmly,
softly, silently - seeping around our sores - isolating


by Gareth Rosser